Chapter 253: Three Days and Two Nights

On April 14th, Qi Si went to the Ruidan Deep Casino.

He wasn’t there to gamble; he was there to kill.

The Ruidan Deep Casino has a long history, standing in the gray area since the establishment of the Federation. It has influence in both the underworld and legitimate circles, and maintains an unspoken peace with the Federation. As long as things don’t get too out of hand, the Security Bureau won’t come knocking.

As a neutral force between the Federation government and resistance organizations, it truly treats the “Federal Charter” as a joke. It dares to guarantee life-and-death stakes and dares to accept such wagers. A death or a body disposal is a common occurrence.

Ever since Qi Si came out of the game and found he had lost his rich perception of the world, he wanted to try killing someone again, to see if he could stimulate his deeply buried talent as he did ten years ago.

He temporarily had no interest in dealing with bodies or destroying traces. Using Ruidan Deep’s venue and framing the casino for the death was a good option.

Qi Si held the compass he’d dug out from the bottom of a box, his hands in his pockets, and ambled loosely like a shiftless vagrant into the alley behind the casino, settling into a surveillance blind spot.

The streets, accustomed to nightlife, became desolate by day. Qi Si soon encountered a lone gambler who had lost all his capital and been kicked out.

He was a man in his forties or fifties, hunched over, his eyes dull, a living corpse.

Killing such a person was the least likely to cause serious consequences.

On the one hand, he frequented the casino, and it was common for him not to return home for ten days to half a month. His disappearance wouldn’t be noticed by his family for a while, by which time the optimal investigation period would have passed, and the body might have already been conveniently disposed of by Ruidan Deep.

On the other hand, he might have already been estranged from everyone due to draining his family’s savings. Even if his family found out he was dead, they generally wouldn’t pursue the real killer, and in most cases, would breathe a sigh of relief at cutting their losses in time.

Of course, it’s not even certain if such a person has a family; perhaps he’s just a lonely widower. Hundreds of thousands of such vagrants disappear in cities every year, and the combined investigation cost is too high, so they are simply abandoned altogether.

Even if he were extremely unlucky and someone discovered this murder and was bored enough to investigate deeply, the probability of tracing it back to Qi Si would be extremely low.

Motivationless murders are the hardest to solve; no matter how one investigates, Qi Si does not exist in the victim’s social circle.

In short, Qi Si successfully lured his target into the surveillance blind spot with a pack of cigarettes, and while the man was lighting a cigarette and recounting his tragic past, Qi Si plunged the compass’s needle into his carotid artery.

After struggling for a while, the target’s failed life ended. Qi Si released the hand covering the man’s mouth and found that he felt no special emotions.

The colors of the world before him were still so faint, as if veiled in fog. The touch of his fingertips and the sounds he heard still felt as if separated by a thin film.

Colorless, soundless, lightless, like being sealed in a concrete Coffin and submerged in the deep sea.

It seems some methods can only be used once, and the negative effects imposed by the Eerie Game are not so easily lifted.

Qi Si did not feel much sadness or pain about this.

He took off his white shirt, splattered with blood, and used it as a rag to wipe clean all the bloodstains on his body. Then, he took out a new white shirt from his backpack and changed into it, putting the dirty compass and shirt inside.

Having finished everything, he shouldered his bag and walked out of the alley with the same gait as he had arrived.

His peripheral vision caught a familiar figure stumbling out from deep within the casino.

A gaunt body draped in a gray T-shirt, with the face of an addict—it was clearly the breakfast shop owner’s son.

Did he see anything? Should he kill him to silence him?

Qi Si stroked his chin, lost in thought… On the morning of April 15th, the Jiuzhou Guild posted an initiative on the forum, roughly calling on players to actively participate in the exploration and research of instances, to join or establish guilds, and to cooperate in unity.

Some theoretical players interpreted it as, “Jiuzhou is extending a friendly gesture to the newly established Unnamed Guild”; even more players believed that the Unnamed Guild was a branch guild created by Jiuzhou, which everyone understood but couldn’t explicitly state.

In the afternoon, a high-level account certified as “Tingfeng Guild Vice Guild Master” reposted Jiuzhou’s initiative.

Players all knew that the Jiuzhou and Tingfeng Guilds had an ambiguous relationship, so there wasn’t much discussion about it.

Qi Si had been holed up in his suburban studio since early morning.

He spent a full six hours, under the research topic of “Frog and Human Body Splicing Art,” concocting a specimen that would be gruesome for any normal person to behold.

The surface of the corpse was densely covered with frogs of various colors, looking like a bundle of ripe wheat from afar. With the slightest breeze, they would sway lightly and nimbly, enough to drive anyone with trypophobia insane.

Qi Si placed his new work alongside the previous “Merman” specimen as a memento of his instance experience.

He washed his knives clean, then tidied the workbench, suddenly feeling a bit bored, and had a slight urge to stab himself to try it out.

So, he took out a newly bought paper cutter from his Game Space and stabbed himself in his left arm.

Limited by its sharpness, the stab wasn’t deep, but quite a bit of blood flowed out, and a few drops landed on his phone screen.

Qi Si wiped the phone screen clean, tied his sleeve around the wound, and the bleeding stopped in a short while.

It seems the negative effect of The Undying’s inability to self-heal doesn’t apply in reality, which is good news in a way.

As for more extreme attempts, like cutting out his own kidney and grilling it, Qi Si currently had no such plans.

He put the paper cutter back into the Game Space, returned home, and sent Lin Chen a text message:

“Tomorrow at 2 PM, team up to match for a new instance. Confirm a pseudonym as soon as possible, and it’s best to change your appearance. Also, don’t stream anymore.”

…On the afternoon of April 16th, Jiangcheng University.

Lin Chen lay on the narrow bed in his dorm, closed his eyes, and entered the Game Space.

Earlier, he had seen discussions about Si Qi on the forum, and by digging deeper into players’ comments, he quickly learned that:

In the Hopeless Sea instance, Qi Si and Chang Xu had met and formed a collaboration, and in the end, Qi Si, under the Puppeteer’s control, almost killed Chang Xu.

In the Red Maple Boarding School instance, the two met and cooperated again, appearing familiar and taciturn.

No one had uploaded recordings of either instance; what happened in them could only be pieced together from the accounts of players who watched the livestreams.

But Lin Chen still realized that the facts were probably different from what he initially thought.

Chang Xu might not be a Slaughter-path player, and might even be a good person; in Rose Manor, he had believed Qi Si’s words and misunderstood him.

However, Qi Si hadn’t deliberately hidden the matter of the Hopeless Sea instance in his words, so he probably didn’t intend to deceive him. What exactly was the situation?

Lin Chen couldn’t figure it out, so he called Qi Si, but Qi Si didn’t answer any of the six calls.

He then carefully sent a few text messages, but Qi Si didn’t reply to those either.

Unexpectedly, before he could investigate further, Qi Si proactively sent him a text message, setting the time for team matching for the instance.

Well, some questions are clearer and more direct when asked in person than through remote communication.

The other requests in the text message were easy to understand. Lin Chen knew that he and Qi Si had both been called out on the forum, so they definitely couldn’t use their real names and appearances anymore.

He browsed the mall and eventually spent 50,000 points to buy an item called 【Camera Filter】.

【Name: Camera Filter】

【Type: Item】

【Effect: Slightly adjusts appearance based on the player’s original face】

【Note: Ready for your filtered photos?】

As the name suggests, this item can adjust factors such as skin tone, eye distance, and tooth color, much like a phone’s built-in camera, adding a sense of unfamiliarity and distortion to the player’s appearance.

After adjustment, acquaintances would still recognize the original person, but strangers seeing them for the first time would definitely be confused.

Lin Chen couldn’t afford items with better effects, so he had to make do with the 【Camera Filter】.

He adjusted every dimension of his features to the maximum extent before leaping into the bottomless rabbit hole before him.

A cold electronic voice asked: “You performed excellently in the last instance, and your livestream will receive additional traffic. Would you like to enable livestreaming in this instance?”

Lin Chen shook his head: “No, not this time, and not in the future either.”

【Default settings saved for you】

【Generating instance randomly…】

【instance loading… Loading complete】

…On the other side, Qi Si lay down on his bed precisely on time, letting his consciousness sink into darkness.

He opened his eyes in a high-backed chair, turning his head to see his reflection in the full-length mirror. His crimson eyes combined with the mottled blood-stained clothes made him look exactly like a vengeful spirit crawled out of an old mansion.

The 【Crimson High Priest】 card had a greater impact on his appearance than the 【humanoid evil spirit】 card. When he was expressionless, he no longer exuded wickedness as before, but instead revealed a deceptive sense of holiness and compassion.

The white shirt he was originally wearing was stained with large patches of blood and was no longer presentable.

Qi Si spent a thousand points in the mall to buy a red suit and changed into it, finally looking a bit more acceptable.

In the temple, all matters were operating in an orderly fashion under the rules set by the Sea-God Scepter.

The villagers of Qijia Village had not yet entered the game; they would likely wait until the seven-day countdown ended before reluctantly matching for a new instance.

The new players infected with the Insomnia Syndrome Pathogen had gone through the first instance, half of them died, providing 78,000 points.

Liu Yuhan was soloing a new instance, acting much more aggressively and violently than before, as if venting some emotion.

Dong Xiwen was in reality, wrapped in a white robe, sitting in a fully armed military truck, presumably participating in an operation as a member of the Balance Church.

Zhang Yiyu’s screen had gone completely black. The Soul Leaf was still there, indicating she was alive, but her signal had somehow been cut off.

Well, everyone has a bright future.

Qi Si reached out to touch the crimson leaf representing Lin Chen.

Lin Chen, in a patient gown, sat in a high-backed chair in a pure white palace, a frozen image.

This meant he had started matching for a instance but hadn’t officially loaded in yet.

Qi Si no longer waited, gathered all his items, put on his hiking backpack, stood up, and stepped into the full-length mirror.

【Generating instance randomly】

【instance loading… Loading complete】